


Heartache By The Number

by TheThirdCharles



Series: Fallout: New Vegas- Heartache By The Number [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 05:41:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10530075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheThirdCharles/pseuds/TheThirdCharles
Summary: Cass deals with loss the best way she knows how, followed by the second best way she knows how. Courier offers a deal. Impetus Legio.





	

CASS, JACKIE, two CASSIDY CARAVAN GUARDS, and a pack BRAHMIN, a radiation scarred, two headed cow, its back piled high with cargo, walk down a dusty, old interstate. Their weapons are out, Cass with her over-under double barreled shotgun, wearing her weathered cowboy hat, brown leather jacket, work jeans, rose necklace, and button down shirt. Jackie wears an overcoat with dual bandoliers and a sizeable 10mm handgun. The Cassidy Caravan Guards wear basic wasteland outfits with the usual small arms.

JACKIE  
I’m just saying, what’s to stop me?

Cass turns to Jackie, sighing, frustrated.

CASS  
Jack, what the fuck won’t stop you? You’re not taking over the caravan.

JACKIE  
Oh, Rose of Sharon Cassidy, how little you know.

CASS  
It’s not like you can take me.

Cass shrugs, chuckling at Jackie’s kidding around.

JACKIE  
Don’t you worry that pretty, little, whiskey-fueled head of yours about that.  
I have my methods. And besides, what kind of claim do you have to lead us?

CASS  
Well, to start with, the fucker is named after me.

JACKIE  
Oh, like that makes a difference. A Rose-

Cass looks jokingly intimidating at Jackie.

CASS  
If you say “A Rose by any other name would smell as sweet”, I’m  
gonna blow your brains out and have the war steer lap them up.

JACKIE  
You mean the pack brahmin?

Cass pets the pack brahmin, glaring at Jackie.

CASS  
She’s the property of Cassidy Caravans and I worked my ass off to buy her.

JACKIE  
Really? All I have to do is draw down on  
you. She’ll be all mine and that’ll be that.

Cass playfully smacks him across the face with her shotgun.

CASS  
Oh, screw you. The Mojave Outpost isn’t too far from here.

Jackie rubs his forehead, which has started to bruise.

JACKIE  
Great. I get smacked across the face and now we’re getting taxed.

Cass keeps walking, annoyed at Jackie.

CASS  
Would you rather be taxed in brahmin shit so that all  
we can do is hope that Caesar’s allergic to bull-crap?

JACKIE  
So we give them whatever they want?

Cass turns to him, frustrated.

CASS  
Hey, I’m not happy about all of that either, but the republic  
isn’t easy. If they expect to cover the whole Mojave, it’s going  
to be a long process. It’s going to take time and money.

Jackie looks at Cass, trying to say something with weight.

JACKIE  
That’s the thing. Where are those taxes going? We’re risking  
our asses out here running goods and paying whatever they’re  
asking, when Caesar can just knock us over whenever he wants? 

He finally gets a reaction out of Cass.

JACKIE  
Say what you will about the Legion, but you  
don’t see any of their caravans getting hit.

Cass responds, getting mad.

CASS  
Alright. They’re a bunch of murdering, raping slavers,  
and I wish we could just storm in and take them down.

JACKIE  
But we can’t. Republic may have beat them back at Hoover  
Dam, but they don’t have the guts to go in and finish the job.

Jackie is saddened by this realization.

JACKIE  
I hate that we give them all the caps they  
need and they can’t give us any sort of peace.

Cass somberly answers him.

CASS  
Well, what’s the alternative? We let NCR go limp and Caesar runs  
us all over. They’re the best chance we’ve got at taming this place.

Jackie has completely recovered.

JACKIE  
Whatever. Goddamn, I need a drink, and I assume, because you’re  
Cass, you do too. And more importantly, as boss, you’re buyin’.

Jackie gets too close to Cass for her liking.

JACKIE  
Now, if you’d rather drink for free, you could always put  
ol’ Jackie-boy in charge and let me deal with the costs.

Cass looks out proudly.

CASS  
For the last time, Jack, this caravan is mine, and whoever tries to take it  
from me’s going to be losing both arms, both legs, and up to three balls.

MCLAFFERTY  
…is her general philosophy on selling her company.

Alice McLafferty sits at her desk in the Crimson Caravan Company offices. She’s an orderly woman, blonde and cold, aged about fifty, with an ironed black blazer and skirt, contrasting her white shirt and red tie. Behind her stands a BODYGUARD with typical wasteland leather armor and a lever-action shotgun, looking cautiously beyond McLafferty’s desk at the opposite wall.

MCLAFFERTY  
So you can understand the difficulty with which the Republic  
deals with her, and the desperation that necessitated the interference  
of someone like you. It’s pride that drives her. She’s been more  
than unreasonable with our attempts to buy her out. 

McLafferty goes through paperwork to read from the record.

MCLAFFERTY  
When the first negotiator was sent to offer a total of six thousand caps to  
Rose of Sharon Cassidy, she spit on him and sent him running back to us. 

She grasps her forehead in frustration.

MCLAFFERTY  
We sent the next deal broker to her with the instruction to secure her  
agreement with the use of anything short of lethal force. He returned  
with, and I’m reading this off of the physician’s report upon the  
broker’s medical examination “I doubt he’ll ever piss straight again.” 

She puts down the paperwork and stares out coldly.

MCLAFFERTY  
You understand this is unacceptable for an organization  
with the stature of the Crimson Caravan Company. 

Figurative troopers run behind a darkened McLafferty.

MCLAFFERTY  
We’re the Republic’s supply branch in the Mojave wasteland, and while  
Cassidy Caravans has met all of our taxes, the war effort necessitates our  
system of supply be completely united to best combat the threat of the Legion.

The COURIER leans against the wall, in his mercenary outfit and blackened cowboy hat, grenade rifle slung over his back, revolver in its holster. His arms are crossed and he responds skeptically.

COURIER  
I don’t suppose the NCR shares your view of this.

McLafferty remains calm and slides a contract in the form of a letter across the desk.

MCLAFFERTY  
As the head of Crimson Caravans, I am the voice of Crimson Caravans,  
and as the company is essentially part of the NCR, I speak for the Republic.  
I have made my decision in this matter and my reasoning is none of your  
concern. And you must understand that we are not being unfair in our offer.

Courier is surprised at the amount noted on the letter, but keeps pressing his line of suspicion.

COURIER  
No. No you are not. But is this a matter that would concern a republic or a monopoly?

She rests one forearm on the table and slams down the opposite hand, beginning to feel annoyed at the Courier’s observations.

MCLAFFERTY  
From where I stand, you are neither, so I suggest  
you attend to the task I’ve paid you to do. 

Courier gets off of the wall, standing up to walk out.

COURIER  
You don’t have to worry about that. Any idea where she might be?

Courier walks out into the bright outside, silhouetted by the light.

MCLAFFERTY  
You can find her at the Mojave Outpost, just outside of the NCR border,  
if you hurry. Keep your wits about you. This girl is a tough one.  
No matter what we throw at her, she wouldn’t go down.

Cass has her head leaned down on the counter with three empty bottles of whiskey to her right and one half finished bottle to her left. Four TROOPERS in NCR armor are having beers and laughing about. LACEY, an apathetic bartender, dressed in a mercenary outfit and goggled baseball cap, cleans glasses opposite the troopers. Cass’ shotgun is rested next to her stool.

CASS  
…shoulda been out there with ’em… shoulda been  
protecting ‘em… fucking Vegas ate my life…

TROOPER 1  
Shut it, lady! I can’t tell me how many “Vegas killed my  
future” stories I’ve heard. What ate your life? Slot machine?

Cass turns angrily to the troopers.

CASS  
Fuck you! Raiders! Legion! Maybe fucking  
Deathclaws! Tore ‘em straight to hell! I’ve got nothing!

Trooper 1 laughs it off with his friends.

TROOPER 1  
Deathclaws ate your life huh, Cass? Smells like you’ve been  
ordering some of that top shelf whiskey. How many bottles is that?

Lacey addresses the Troopers, not moving from her place cleaning glasses or turning.

LACEY  
Take it easy on Cass, trooper. Her caravan was hit hard on the way to Vegas. 

She meets Cass’ eye line.

LACEY  
And for your information, she’s been buying bottle after bottle of  
booze and she has plenty of caps to keep ‘em coming, doesn’t she?

CASS  
Yesh.

LACEY  
So shut your mouth, soldier.

The door opens, and a crack of light washes over Lacey, who turns to see it. Courier walks in, closing the door behind him. He starts walking up to Lacey at the counter.

COURIER  
Is this the Mojave Outpost saloon?

LACEY  
Sure ain’t the Mojave Outpost hotel.

Courier has reached the counter and looks squarely at Lacey.

COURIER  
Cute. Ma’am, is there a Rose of Sharon Cassidy here?

Lacey gestures to Cass’ seat. Lacey is looking at Courier, caught off guard by his directness, politeness, or interest in Cass.

LACEY  
Behind the mountain of bottles. You a friend?

Close-up on Courier walking to Cass, but turning back to respond once more to Lacey.

COURIER  
That depends entirely on her.

Courier sits down on the stool right of Cass. He’s facing the opposite direction of her, her head still facedown in her arms on the bar. 

COURIER  
Rose of Sharon Cassidy?

Cass drunkenly responds, beginning to raise up her head.

CASS  
Let me guess? McLafferty and Crimson  
Caravan wanting to buy me out again? 

Cass finishes her current bottle in one swig and yells at Courier. Courier isn’t surprised by her energy, but at the fate of her Caravan.

CASS  
Cassidy Caravans is a fucking ghost story! All that’s left are my name  
and piles of ashes, but you can go to hell if you think I’m selling them.

COURIER  
What was that?

Cass turns to Courier, slamming down her bottle.

CASS  
You heard me. I’m all that’s left, but I’m not giving any of it up.

Courier, now facing the counter, slides her the contract. 

COURIER  
Are you sure? It doesn’t have to be all that’s left. I’ve seen this  
contract, and it’s damn fair. Five figures of caps can get  
you started off in any direction you wanted to wanted to go.

Cass reads over the contract. Courier motions to Lacey, who nods.

CASS  
I can see that, but I’m not selling. If this were reversed, would you sell it?

Courier stares off into the distance.

COURIER  
You’ve been given a better deal than most. Few of us are ever given  
anything for the identity we have to leave behind. It gets swallowed by  
the wasteland and we’re left gawking when the wastes spit nothing back out.

Cass is caught completely off guard by this.

CASS  
Who the fuck are you?

He turns slightly toward her.

COURIER  
A courier. 

Lacey brings him a fresh bottle of whiskey and opens it. Courier puts a hand on her shoulder.

COURIER  
But to you? At the moment, I’m a drinking buddy.

Lacey walks off. Courier takes a drink from the bottle before offering it to Cass. Cass is surprised by this as she closes her eyes and sighs into a smile. She takes a drink from the bottle before putting it down. After a pause, she signs the contract and passes it back to Courier. She drinks the remainder of the bottle as Courier puts the contract in his vest. She slams down the bottle on the table.

CASS  
Holy shit! That worked. So what am I supposed to do now?

COURIER  
There’s an entire wasteland out there. Do what you want.

Cass wipes her mouth off with her arm.

CASS  
That’s helpful. So long as I get out of this dump. I guess my next  
order of business is to cash in that contract. What about you?

COURIER  
Crimson Caravan, to get the broker fee I was promised.

Cass flashes him a winning smile.

CASS  
Fuck it. We might as well go together. A whole wasteland out there to explore, eh?

The drunken troopers laugh at this.

TROOPER 2  
Cass, this is different from exploring the bottom of a bottle.

TROOPER 1  
Why don’t you get over here and let me explore all that freckled goodness again?

Cass gets up from the counter, with an irritated look on her face. Courier stays seated, already sensing where this is going.

CASS  
One caveat on our contract. Just follow my lead for a sec.

Courier gets up, sighing. Cass has a mischievous grin.

CASS  
Oh, come on! Humor me.

She walks over to the troopers, one hand on her hip, the other swinging seductively.

CASS  
I’ve got a response to your request, soldier.

Trooper 1 puts his hand on her hip, smiling widely.

TROOPER 1  
What about it, ma’am?

Cass slams his head face-first into the counter. The other troopers are surprised by this and start to get up.

CASS  
Table it!

Trooper 1 clutches his nose and stumbles off of the stool, screaming. Cass punches Trooper 2 in the face, enjoying herself all the while.

TROOPER 1  
OH FUCK!

Trooper 2 goes down. Trooper 1 starts to get back up. Cass is in the other direction, unable to turn around in time. He’s hit in the face by a thrown stool. He falls over, knocked out cold. Cass smiles. Courier recovers from the throw and starts running for the scuffle. Trooper 3 dives over the counter to get to Courier, who smashes one of the empty bottles over his head and pushes him over the counter. Cass is thrown onto him by Trooper 4’s punch but recovers and backhands Trooper 4 to knock him out. Cass smiles, picking up her shotgun. 

CASS  
See? Wasn’t so bad.

She puts a hand behind Courier and throwing Lacey a bag of caps.

CASS  
Thanks for everything, Lacey. Hope that covers it.

Lacey has gone back to her original apathetic glass cleaning position. The beaten troopers are visible behind her.

LACEY  
Oh, it does, Cass. Be sure to come back. It’s  
not like you can let things get too pleasant.

They walk hurriedly out of the saloon.

COURIER  
The CO won’t be too pleased when he finds out about this.

They’re outside the saloon, still walking briskly away.

CASS  
It’s not like we’re sticking around. We’ll be  
gone before Jackson knows what hit him.

JACKSON  
It’s not what hit me that I’m worried about. 

Ranger Jackson, in the outfit of an NCR Ranger, a modern cowboy getup, with jet-black aviators and an inexplicable handlebar moustache, stands in their path, with a trooper carrying a service rifle standing on either side of him. 

JACKSON  
It’s what hit half my men in the face that I find a bit more pressing.

Cass smiles, caught fleeing the scene. Courier tilts his hat down.

CASS  
Jackson! I guess you heard that scuffle... Turns out, I’m going to be leaving the outpost.

JACKSON  
Without saying goodbye?

CASS  
I would’ve, but I was hoping to miss the tearful hugging and the firing squad.

Jackson chuckles it off, giving a warm smile.

JACKSON  
Never were one for hugs. Still, I’m glad to see you’re moving on. 

Jackson leans in, noticing the Courier under his hat.

JACKSON  
Courier? I suppose this was partly your doing. Always  
a pleasure. How’d the service rifle treat you?

Courier smiles, reminiscing, but then snapping back into the moment.

COURIER  
Well, until a run in with a chainsaw. You know how it is.  
You aren’t too mad about those four in there, are you?

JACKSON  
If I had to court martial everyone who got mixed up in some  
sort of brawl, the NCR’s last line of defense would consist of  
Lacey and if we’re very, very lucky, one of the bar stools.

COURIER  
Then I’ve got to ask, what was with the armed escort?

The troopers stand at ease, one of them chuckling. Jackson gestures to them.

JACKSON  
It’s always funny to see a pair of troublemakers piss  
themselves. It’s too bad you two are too smart for that.

Cass steps forward, offering a handshake.

CASS  
I guess this is it then. Thanks for everything.

Jackson accepts the handshake.

JACKSON  
Wallowing like that didn’t suit you. It’s a damn shame about your  
caravan and a shame you’ve got to go, but no matter what, remember you  
have a place here. Just say the word and the republic will come running.

Cass and the Courier walk away, out of the fencing that holds the buildings of the Mojave Outpost.

CASS  
Lot of memories there. 

COURIER  
Any good ones?

CASS  
Sure, piled on the shit-heap of the bad. 

Cass keeps talking. Courier cocks an eyebrow.

CASS  
Jackson’s a good guy. Tried talking me out of that slump, but I wouldn’t have any of  
that. Hell, even that drunk whose nose we busted and his buddies were good for a spin. 

Cass glares at Courier.

CASS  
Oh, don’t give me that look like you’ve never had an itch that needs  
scratching. What? Because I’m such a dainty little thing? Friend-o, if you  
don’t recall us showing those soldiers in there plenty of evidence to the  
contrary, then your skull’s taken a harder fucking than a New Vegas whore.

Courier keeps his eyes down, this constant banter being a new experience to him.

COURIER  
This is a good sign. Ten feet out of the outpost and we’re already squabbling.  
I didn’t mean to come off judgmental. I’m no saint either, and on top of  
that, having someone to travel with now’s kind a new concept to me. 

Cass smirks at this.

CASS  
Alright, alright. Loner, huh? And a sinner like the rest of us?

She pauses, in the shade of a monument.

CASS  
Well, whatever you’ve done, it can’t have been much worse than that.

They both stop and look up and see a large metal monument, towering thirty feet tall, cobbled together out of several mismatched shades of metal. It’s composed of two figures, an NCR Veteran Ranger in futuristic riot gear and a matching helmet, and the other a desert ranger in Ranger cowboy hat and aviators, but differing from Jackson’s outfit as it replaces the modern cowboy outfit with futuristic combat armor. Courier talks to her, confused, but still staring at the monument.

COURIER  
The monument?

Cass talks, visible from just below the eye-line. Courier looks to see this.

CASS  
Every time I see that, I have to cringe. It’s NCR whipping it out and jerking  
it all over the Mojave. Soldiers get shot to pieces, Vegas citizens enslaved...

COURIER  
Caravans burned?

CASS  
For what? Scavenging the right metal to show off their bulge, hiring  
artists to weld it together, spending hundreds of thousands on that  
fucking sculpture in place of food for those of them starving to death  
in the slums to the point I can’t blame them for rioting.

Courier’s hands are in his pockets. Cass stands in front of him, staring at the monument.

COURIER  
It doesn’t sound like you’re a fan of the republic.

CASS  
They aren’t always right, but they’re family. And they can do good  
work. But for every man like Jackson, there’s a monument to prove  
they missed the point just enough to even the scales. Don’t get me  
wrong; when the bullets are flyin’, I know where my flag lays. 

Cass crosses her arms, listening to Courier. They start walking again, passing the monument, a great distance from the frame. There’s a silhouette on either side of the panel.

CASS  
You?

COURIER  
I’ve seen worse than them. And there’s no shortage of worse. I guess  
you could say I’ve made some enemies on the other side. NCR might not  
always be right, but they pay well enough, and who knows? Maybe  
they’ll get their shit together in time to do some real good for this place.

Cass is spotted through a pair of binoculars.

CASS  
They just might.

Courier and Cass have covered good ground moving out of the Outpost and down the road to Crimson Caravans. The silhouettes have begun running to tail them. 

CASS  
Now what was that about enemies on the other side?

COURIER  
I don’t see how that affects our trip to McLafferty.

Cass and Courier are on a road passing the remains of a badly decayed two story building. Half of the walls have collapsed, but there is enough left to seek cover. An ASSASSIN DECANUS, Decanus being the Legion term for “officer”, stands on the second floor doorway and three LEGIONARY ASSASSINS find cover on the ground floor, two on the outside, one inside the building. The Legionaries wear the typical Legion armor of football padding over crimson and leather doing its best to mimic the armor of ancient Rome.

CASS  
Oh. Mysterious type. After I spill my guts about my  
situation, political views, and most recent sexploits?

From a view just behind the Assassin Decanus, the Decanus cocks a .44 magnum revolver with Cass and Courier just below.

COURIER  
Basically. I guess what you need to know is, for now, I’ll be watching  
your back and I hope when the time comes, you’ll be there to do the same.

A revolver shot fires in front of their path, causing Courier and Cass to stop walking, shocked. There’s a full view of the Legionaries aiming their weapons at Cass and Courier from within and just outside of the building.

ASSASSIN DECANUS  
I suppose this would be the time to find out, profligate.

 

Courier and Cass are standing tensely in the road, eyeing the assassins.

COURIER  
Remember when I said I have enemies on the other side?

CASS  
You weren’t fucking around.

Assassin Decanus tilts up his revolver and addresses Cass.

ASSASSIN DECANUS  
The wretch of a profligate was not exaggerating. He’s due for Caesar’s  
judgment on the cause of slaughtering the irreplaceable Vulpes Inculta  
and his regiment at Nipton. He may not have been an easy man to find,  
but he will be once he’s been lashed to a cross with the crows pecking out  
his eyes. You, wench, are most fortunate, as your fate does not  
concern us. Be gone or you’ll be seized as an officer’s wife.

Cass gives him an enraged smile.

CASS  
So, you’ve slaughtered a bunch of my kind, I take it?

The Assassin Decanus booms down to her.

ASSASSIN DECANUS  
Undoubtedly so. This is your last warning to leave before your body joins the pile.

Cass turns her head slightly, not breaking eye contact with Assassin Decanus, but speaking to Courier.

CASS  
And he’s slaughtered a whole detachment of you fucking cavemen? You’re  
just full of surprises, aren’t you? You must’ve been damn near impossible to kill.

Assassin Decanus looks down on her, greatly displeased.

ASSASSIN DECANUS  
And with that, your fate is sealed.

Cass quickly draws her shotgun and gets into a combat stance, speaking to Courier, but looking at Assassin Decanus.

CASS  
I think you’ll find that’s the case with me too.

Cass fires her shotgun at the Assassin Decanus. The Assassin Decanus ducks behind the doorway of the second floor’s remains. The shotgun blast hits the doorway, which absorbs the hit, leaving him uninjured. The Legionary Assassins open fire on Cass. Cass dives, narrowly dodging the stream of bullets. Courier, not yet targeted by the assassins, draws his grenade rifle and aims. Assassin Decanus emerges from cover and begins to draw down on Courier. Courier fires the grenade rifle. The grenade hits the building, causing it to collapse. Assassin Decanus fires into the air, his shot thrown off by the blast. The Legionary Assassins are caught by surprise. Cass and Courier are hit with a large gust of wind and sand from the collapse. They shield their eyes. Courier drops the grenade rifle and draws his revolver. Cass starts moving forward towards the rubble, shotgun drawn. One of the Legionary Assassins from the outside of the building, his left arm a mass of broken bones and his right grasping a single barrel break action shotgun, attempts to rise from the rubble. He sees Cass, now running towards him. He starts raising the shotgun in his remaining hand, but Cass is already upon the rubble. Cass fires her remaining shell into his chest, knocking him free of the rubble and killing him instantly. Cass hears a click, as the Assassin Decanus, low to the ground, one of his legs has been pinned down by debris, cocks his revolver aimed squarely at her. He is shot twice in the head, the force of the bullets kicking his head back. This surprises Cass. Courier lowers the still-smoking revolver, just outside of the rubble, catching his breath from the excitement. Courier walks towards the rubble. Cass is still running on adrenaline.

CASS  
Hot damn, that was lucky.

COURIER  
You’re telling me.

Courier pries the revolver out of the Assassin Decanus’ cold, dead hands. Cass is speechless.

COURIER  
The one with the nicest gun didn’t get entirely buried. I was just out of ammo.

Courier rummages through the Assassin Decanus’ pockets. Cass is about to rant, but Courier interrupts her before she’s able to start.

COURIER  
I was shot in the head, you know.

Cass pauses, listening to Courier’s story. Courier reloads the .44. 

COURIER  
Not just shot in the head. Buried in a shallow grave too. The  
whole nine yards. Well, four feet, if we’re getting technical. 

Courier snaps shut the cylinder.

COURIER  
As luck would have it, I was dug out in time and a charitable doctor got me back on my feet. 

Couriers aims down the revolver’s sights.

COURIER  
I guess the first thing on my mind was revenge, but then I took a while to look around  
and realize just how fortunate I was that all of these bizarre events happened as they did. 

Courier casts aside his old revolver.

COURIER  
The bastard I was before could’ve easily gotten snuffed out, and maybe  
there was something to do more important than clinging on to revenge. 

Courier holsters the .44 magnum revolver. Cass is entranced by the story.

COURIER  
Like I said before, few of us get the chance to give it all another go.

CASS  
Did you ever run into the guy who shot you?

COURIER  
Nope. I guess you could say I’m looking for him.

Cass looks doubtfully at Courier.

CASS  
From the tone you’re using, it doesn’t sound like you’d  
return the favor with a bigger caliber, and that’s bullshit.

Courier and Cass look down at the assassins they’d just killed.

COURIER  
Maybe. I’m not too sure what I’d do, but it’s worth some thought. You’ve  
seen where pure and simple revenge can get you. I wouldn’t tell you how  
to live your life on the grounds I can barely run mine, but revenge like that  
can lead you down the wrong path. Things can’t always be that black and white.

Courier and Cass walk on the road the way they were originally headed. Far behind them, the badly battered Legionary Assassin from outside the building raises his hand above the rubble, looking for something to grasp on to. 

CASS  
Huh. Well, I know the guy who shot you in the head is probably out there living  
it up as we speak, and I know someone killed in my caravan. Neither of those  
seem too morally daunting. Now are we getting the fucking money or not?

COURIER  
You really believe it’s that clear cut? You’d gun ‘em down on sight?

CASS  
They knew what they were doing; it’s a simple enough concept. If you  
get the wrong people mad, you have to be prepared to look the fuck out.


End file.
